Chapter 1
1089words
An hour ago, I thought this Thanksgiving dinner would be perfect, just like every year before.
Now, I'm going to tear this facade of a family apart with my own hands.
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**[One hour ago]**
The Victorian-style manor blazed with light for our Thanksgiving dinner. Father, the almighty CEO of Victor Group, hosted this gathering without fail each year. My grandparents presided at the head of the table while Mother Emma floated between guests, the perfect hostess.
My brother Alex spent the entire evening glued to his phone, putting out fires at work. His wife Nina elegantly sliced his steak, the picture of wifely devotion.
But something in the way Father looked at Nina made my skin crawl.
His gaze held something viscous, an undisguised hunger. When Nina caught his stare, she tilted her chin ever so slightly, her lips curving into the ghost of a smile.
The exchange lasted barely a second—so brief I convinced myself I'd imagined it.
But moments later, when Nina rose to fetch dessert, Father's eyes tracked her every movement, fixed on her swaying hips.
My stomach knotted as I glanced at my brother, still absorbed in his work calls, completely oblivious. He even managed to flash Nina a loving smile between emails.
The dinner ended in a performance of perfect harmony, guests filing out with full stomachs and empty pleasantries.
As I drove through the manor gates toward the city, my mind replayed those moments between Father and Nina on loop. I tried to rationalize it—maybe it was just an older man's harmless appreciation. Nothing more.
Until I reached for my phone on the passenger seat and found nothing. Damn it. I'd left it on the sofa in the dining room.
With a curse, I yanked the wheel into a U-turn and headed back to the manor.
My headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating the familiar wrought iron gates. As I pulled into the courtyard, my heart stuttered.
Father's black Bentley remained in the same spot, and beside it sat Nina's red Porsche.
But my brother's Mercedes G-Class—the car he practically lived in—was nowhere to be seen.
Ice crawled up my spine. Alex was gone. So why was Nina still here? And why hadn't Father left?
A memory I'd deliberately buried suddenly resurfaced. A few weeks ago, I'd come to play chess with Grandfather. As I reached the second-floor landing, I spotted Nina hurrying down from the third-floor guest rooms.
She'd jumped when she saw me, her cheeks flushed unnaturally red, one button on her blouse misaligned. I hadn't thought much of it then, assuming she'd just woken from a nap.
But now—those disheveled clothes, that deer-in-headlights look...
My blood turned to ice. A sickening suspicion took root and spread like poison through my mind.
I killed the engine, my hands trembling as I pushed open the car door. The estate was deathly quiet except for the whisper of wind through the trees. With the spare key, I eased open the heavy oak door and slipped inside.
The first floor stood deserted, only the lingering aroma of dinner hanging in the air.
Then my ears caught it—a faint sound from the second floor. A desperate, muffled moan that came in rhythmic pulses.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I slipped off my heels and padded barefoot up the cold marble stairs. With each step, the sounds grew clearer—a man's labored grunts mingling with a woman's uninhibited cries.
The sounds led me to the guest room at the end of the hallway.
The door stood slightly ajar.
My lungs seized, as if all the blood had drained from my body. I pressed against the wall, inching forward until I reached the door. With trembling fingers, I pushed it wider.
What I saw shattered my world in an instant.
On that large bed meant for honored guests, the sheets twisted in disarray, Nina rode my father like a woman possessed. Both completely naked, lost in their betrayal.
Her long hair whipped wildly with each movement, her mouth releasing sounds that made me flush with shame. And Father—that supposedly dignified, respected family patriarch—gripped her waist with desperate hands, completely consumed by their forbidden union.
I stood frozen in the doorway, hollowed out, my mind wiped clean. I even forgot to breathe.
Their frenzied coupling reached its climax—Nina's sharp cry piercing the air before she collapsed onto my father's sweat-slicked chest.
Victor emerged from his haze of pleasure with a satisfied groan, then turned his head—and saw me standing there.
The color drained from his face. Horror and shame battled across his features as he shoved Nina aside, scrambling for the sheets to cover himself.
Nina's reaction, however, chilled me to the bone.
She showed no panic at being caught. Instead, she sat up languidly, making no move to cover herself. She gathered her damp hair and looked directly at me, the corner of her mouth curling into something that wasn't embarrassment—but triumph.
The heat in her eyes cooled rapidly, replaced by an icy satisfaction that sent shivers down my spine.
This wasn't the panic of someone caught in a moment of weakness. This was a hunter savoring the moment her trap finally snapped shut.
"Ava," she whispered, her voice soft yet crystal clear. "Now you know."
She paused, her gaze like a poisoned blade slicing into my heart.
"But will you tell? Do you have the guts to tear this family apart?"
That eerie, satisfied smile made something click in my brain. She wasn't a victim seduced by my powerful father. She was the architect of this whole scenario—a predator who had set her trap with cold precision.
I couldn't bear another second. I turned and fled downstairs, desperate to escape that gilded, filthy cage.
Back in my car, doors locked, everything I'd bottled up—shock, disgust, rage, grief—exploded at once. I collapsed over the steering wheel, sobs tearing from my throat.
Images flashed through my mind: Alex's face lit with joy whenever he spoke of Nina; Mother's quiet dignity as she held our family together; Nina's victorious smile. They tangled into a suffocating web I couldn't escape.
I don't know how long I cried before I finally raised my swollen eyes to my reflection in the rearview mirror.
No. I can't let this stand.
I wiped away my tears and gripped the steering wheel, my trembling fingers gradually steadying.
I had to tell Mom. Had to tell my brother.
